


Loose Leash

by ninhursag



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Consensual Possession, Dom/sub, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-19
Updated: 2012-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-02 04:32:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninhursag/pseuds/ninhursag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Mark really has a thing for electronic stalking that even he doesn't understand too well and Eduardo is surprisingly game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loose Leash

**Author's Note:**

> This is for sarapen on lj. So very late, so so very late! I do hope you like it still <3

It starts completely by accident, because Wardo loves his gadgets and he's over in Mark's room all the time, like he doesn't have his own. Sprawling out on Mark's bed with a text book, dark eyed and grinning, long limbs taking up all the available space. Mark doesn't mind, why would he? It's not like Eduardo is any trouble, and there is something vaguely reassuring about the steady over there, right behind Mark's shoulder presence of him. 

Sometimes he leaves things there, textbooks, and for fun books, napkins scribbled over with equations, sweaters, candy wrappers and half full bottles of beer. It's normal. One time, the thing he leaves there is the receiver of his heart rate monitor, the one he uses when he's jogging. The chest strap is clearly still attached to him, though, because when Mark picks the wristband up where it sits abandoned on his desk, it beeps and reports a heart rate to him. He stares down at it for a few seconds blankly before he realizes what it is.

Eduardo's heart. Eduardo is not here but somewhere else, probably just jogging, but Mark is still holding this thing in his hand that is reporting this weird, intimate detail about him. He stares at, fingers clenching around it and a strange thrill humming in his blood. Eduardo's heart is very steady and regular-- a runner, good physical condition. Healthy. That's good. That's nice to know.

Mark doesn't let it go until it goes dark, either it's out of range or Wardo notices he's missing an important component and takes the chest strap off. Then Mark lets it clatter back onto the cheap veneer of his desk.

Mark's insides are strangely twisted up, but that is not the issue-- no, it is the fact that he is shockingly, bizarrely hard, dick throbbing. As if he'd spent the last ten or so minutes looking at porn instead of watching numbers blink on a wristband. And the ache doesn't go away, not while he's staring at his desk, fingers curling and uncurling.

He sticks a chair under his doorknob before dragging the lube and tissues out of his nightstand and gets himself off in about sixty seconds, eyes squeezed shut, hand wrapped in a death grip on his dick, with the image of the numbers on the monitor alternating with the image of himself with his fingers on Eduardo's wrist, close and tight, pressed up against the pulse point. Eduardo's eyes, wide and bright, looking at him, just him.

It leaves him panting, sated and really confused. He decides it could mean a lot of things, but probably it is just a cigar and the obvious interpretation is that he'd really like to... that it's Wardo he would like to have his hand on the wrist of, and that it is Wardo's hand he would like to have on his cock. 

Wardo looks so blindingly surprised when he swings by the suite a half hour later, all sweaty and loose-limbed from his run. He gets a chance to say, “I think I left my--” smiling, and then those dark eyes go huge and startled because of what Mark does. 

So surprised when Mark grabs him by the wrist and half ushers and half drags him into his room. Mark is no good at this kind of game, he can't make shit up or whisper or woo, he can't do it like they do in the movies his sisters watch or even like other people on campus. If the only thing that worked was wooing and seductive bullshit, he'd still be a virgin. All he can do is latch on and drag Eduardo into his room and lean up on his toes so that he can kiss him flush on the mouth, one hand still encircling his wrist the whole time, feeling the race of his pulse under his fingertips.

Wardo's eyes stay so big and his lips are parted, soft. He smells good, even sweaty and slippery as he is, skin too warm under Mark's fingers. Not like a girl would feel or smell, not even an athletic girl, a rower. He smells like something expensive, like one of those guys in the final clubs. Mark kisses him, tastes him, and he can feel the pound-pound-pound of Eduardo's pulse.

This, Mark is pretty sure, should be difficult and weird and awkward, because he has no idea what to do next and Eduardo is... Eduardo. But then Wardo's hand slips around the back of his neck, warm and solid and he sort of smiles and it is not difficult at all. Mark keeps staring up at him. He can't remember if he ever spent this long staring at another human being, usually he gives up when he can't figure out what's making their insides work.

“Hello Mark,” Wardo says, still with that same look on his face, the easy one. “What brought this on?”

Mark just shrugs and mutters, “You left your heart rate monitor on my desk. It... I could see it. I could see your heartbeat.” It sounds ridiculous, but it has the distinction of being true.

Wardo doesn't laugh, but he does smile, bright and honest, and then he's the one who leans down, who kisses Mark. Steady and easy, like he's done this before, done it enough that all the awkwardness was sanded out of him. Which Mark finds he does not like at all, but it's hard to worry about that now. He's got his hand on Wardo's wrist, still, always, feeling Wardo's pulse and it is so much better this way, under his hand, than on the monitor. He can breathe in time.

Wardo keeps smiling when he pushes Mark down onto his bed and nudges his knees apart, making room for himself. He's so good at that.

After that it's easy. It's easy at first. There's work to be done, committing to his code and his projects and problem-sets. There are people, dragging him out, or staying in, noise spilling into his space.

Eduardo is always there and even when he's not, he's a text or an email away. When Mark makes himself jittery with too much sugar and caffeine and not enough sleep, he can grab Eduardo's wrist and put his finger on the pulse, sure and steady. Eduardo always looks up from his book and smiles at him when he does, a bright, vivid smile.

It's easy, it's great, it's enough and then it's not... it's not enough. Winter break is going to happen, and then Wardo will not be directly in touching range and this is not necessarily acceptable. Other people seeing Eduardo and looking at him might not recognize the fundamental truth which is he belonged to... that there was a necessity that he be Mark's and not _theirs_. Unreasonable of them, but there it was.

Most people faced with this situation, this unreasonable regard of the general public to their... their person, would probably grit their teeth and bear it, but Mark is not most people. He knows how to solve problems with technology, among other quality traits. He just needs the appropriate solution.

He finds it when he buys the tracker off some MIT kid he met at a party. The kid modded it from a basic set-up and is probably prouder of it than the thing warrants. 

It's not much to look at, just a thin black strap with something that looks like a watch face that can sit snugly against Eduardo's wrist, fitted against the pulse point. But, it has a gps built in and a monitor that reports heartrate, temperature... location, of course. So that Eduardo can be in Miami for winter break and Mark can be on Long Island but Mark will know. He'll know if Wardo is alive. He'll be able to make a good guess if he's sleeping or running or upset, or if he's sick.

If he's fucking someone. Not that he would, probably, but...

It won't be the same as feeling Wardo's pulse, steady and warm, directly under his fingertips, but it will be a good enough makeshift substitute. 

He slips it on Wardo's wrist for the first time the night he gets it, when he's warm and sated, and Eduardo is laying sprawled face down on Mark's bed, hair plastered to his neck, legs still fallen open, loose-limbed and so clearly used-- still _available_ to be used. 

Mark's sticky with sweat all over and his fingers are still gross, a little slippery with lube and drying come, so his hands shake a little when he picks up Eduardo's right hand, stroking across the palm and the lax, open fingers. Eduardo make an odd little questioning noise and raises his head up from the pillow it was half buried in.

He doesn't do anything to stop Mark from fastening the tracker on him, just sort of stares at the motion of Mark's fingers, like the clumsiness is fascinating to him. “What's this for?” he finally murmurs. “A present? It doesn't look like a tennis bracelet, I don't know, man.” His voice is hoarse and a little tired sounding, but there's the faint edge of a smile around the corners of his mouth when he pulls his wrist in close, peering down and inspecting the band wrapped tight around it.

Mark traces the band with a fingertip, gliding over it to the warm skin of Eduardo's wrist while he explains.

Eduardo frowns, staring down at it and then looking back up at Mark, blinking. His eyes are impossibly dark and his lips are curled down at the corners, and just for a second Mark is afraid he'll say no, no, are you crazy? Tear it off and leave it there, stomp off. People can be like that. Think Mark is crazy, even if it isn't like that, even if he just needs to keep an eye on things and _know_.

But, some balance seems to shift behind Wardo's eyes, like whatever he sees in Mark's face satisfies him that... something. He smiles instead of yelling. “Is this your hightech way of putting a collar and leash on me?” he asks, but it's teasing. Eduardo's left hand slides over Mark, cupped around the wristband on his right. “Because that's kinky.”

Mark just shrugs and kisses him on the mouth. He doesn't bother to explain that he wouldn't have to if Eduardo would just stay put and present in touching range, where he belongs. He knows that won't happen and anyway, Wardo loves his gadgets, apparently even this one, which is good enough.

For now.


End file.
